THE SORROWS OF PHILIPPINE

HEITLENBERG.

PHILIPPINE Heitlenberg was returning from the groves which surrounded her castle, and leading her son, the young Baron, when as she advanced to the flight of steps which ascended to the great hall, Leopold trod on the flowing train of her sable robe and stopped her progress. She turned-Leopold -Leopold sunk on his knee. "Let the noble Baroness of Heitlenberg pardon the lowest of her vassals, he said, as he seized her hand between both his. In doing which he cautiously insinuated a small folded paper into her palm, and gently pressed her fingers upon it. He dropped her hand, and bowed to the ground. The numerous attendants thronged to seize him, but the Baroness in a gentle voice bad him arise; and turning to her followers, said, "hurt him not, his humility atones for the slight accident which has

occurred." She then pursued her way to the saloon, and concealed the paper in her bosom.

Otho, Baron of Heitlenberg had been dead five months, and his widow mourned his loss with unaffected sorrow. Her son Philip was the sole comfort of her afflicted heart, and the only solace of her melancholy hours. He was all a mother could desire beautiful, amiable, sprightly, gentle, and of quick parts. As she gazed she smiled, she wept, and blessed the hour that he was born.

He

Otho by his last will had bequeathed a princely income to his widow, and left to his son an unencumbered estate far exceeding that of any other nobleman throughout the German empire. appointed his brother Ernest guardian to them, and after taking an affectionate leave of his family, calmly resigned his breath. He was buried with due pomp in the tomb of his ancestors, and was followed to his last mansion by the mourning peasantry of his domains.

In the gloomy retirement of the ancient castle Philippine remained with her child. Ernest was her constant guest, and the director of all her actions. His mild interference gained her unbounded confidence; and his kindness to his nephew procured him the artless love of the young heir.

Thus passed the hours at Heitlenberg Castle,

in the uninterrupted calm of domestic friendship. The first circumstance which Philippine concealed from her brother-in-law was the note she received from Leopold.

It was not til she retired to rest, and had dismissed her attendants that she had an opportunity to read it. To her very great surprize she found the few following words. Be cautious: be watchful: let suspicion wake.

Suspicion was a guest the amiable Philippine had never cherished. Thus aroused her scrutinizing thoughts reverted to every person in the castle, and to every word and every action: but in vain she sought a cause for the conduct recommended to her. In her estimation every one was kind, was good, was virtuous; and every thing she saw was right. Cautious she thought that she had always been; watchful she determined to be; but suspicious she found it impossible to become, for she knew not whom to suspect.

Thus ruminating it was long ere she closed her eyes in slumber : toward morning she fell into a deep sleep, during which the following dream flitted before her disturbed imagination. She thought that she was benighted in a remote part of a thick wood, and seated on the root of an old tree. While she sat anxiously waiting the return

of day, a dark cloud descended slowly to the earth, and gradually opened, displaying the brightness of the mid-day sun. Within it lay, apparently sleeping, a venerable monk. While she gazed the wind rose suddenly, and blowing aside the grey robe in which the father was arrayed, she beheld her son concealed beneath the skirts of his garment. She started at the sight and awoke.

To be superstitious was Philippine's greatest weakness. Her dream was, she doubted not a warning of some event concerning her boy. She instantly arose, and hastily sought his apartment; he was still asleep, innocent, calm, and undisturbed. While she hung over him in silent rapture, he suddenly started, cried "Mother," and awoke. She took his hand and pressed it to her bosom; and raising her eyes she beheld her father confessor at that moment enter the court of the castle in the grey robe of his order. Suspicion instantly found a place in the gentle heart of Philippine, and Father Albert became the object she suspected. His grey robe floated in the breeze, and she pressed her son with energy to her heart, as though she feared that Albert came to seize him. From that hour happiness fled from the Baroness of Heitlenberg; fear for her child became her ruling passion, and she never thought

that he was safe but in her presence. Ernest endeavoured to discover the cause of her encreasing uneasiness, but she sedulously concealed her fears within her own breast, and by brooding constantly over them, she suffered them to entwine with her existence.

Philip meanwhile grew in stature and in strength, and frequently accompanied his uncle when be hawked and when he hunted. One evening, as she sat watching his return, Sigismund, the favourite servant of her brother Ernest, rushed dismayed and trembling to her presence. "O! most excellent lady, he cried, the hand of fate pursues us!" The Baroness instantly exclaimed, "Say, what of my boy!" "Gone," said the man. Philippine fell to the ground. When she recovered she found herself on her bed, and Rosamond her waiting woman weeping over her. Her first inquiry was for her boy. "Is he returned," she earnestly inquired. Rosamond was silent; but her silence assured the wretched Baroness that Philip had not been found. She sunk again upon her pillow. Many hours elapsed, and no tidings of her son arrived. As night advanced her uneasiness encreased, and brought on a violent fever, the next day she became delirious, and in the height of her phrenzy, accused Father Albert of